If Hopes Were Dupes, Fears May Be Liars
by Hekate1308
Summary: Being jealous of a woman like Irene Adler is perfectly pointless. So Kate isn't jealous. Or tries not to be. And then they meet Sherlock Holmes. Kate/Irene Adler.


**Author's note: Yeah, totally taking a break from writing here. Totally. This is not me writing at all. This is just... typing. Which accidentally leads to sentences. Of course, you could explain most of my fics like that.**

**Also, another weird idea! Yippie!**

**Anyway, I noticed "Kate" in the character descriptions, and I thought "Wait... who's Kate? I know the series by heart!" and then I realized she was Irene Adlers live-in PA, and I wondered "Are there any fics about her?" And I couldn't think of one, so...**

**I don't own anything, and please review.**

Being jealous of a woman like Irene Adler is perfectly pointless, Kate knows it. The Woman makes her money (for the most part) as a dominatrix. So jealousy is an utterly ridiculous sentiment. So she isn't jealous. Or tries not to be.

And then Sherlock Holmes happens.

She's aware, even before the consulting detective enters their lives, that Irene Adler isn't capable of love.

Fascination, yes.

Physical attraction? Definitely (and here she smiles, remembering the nights they spend together).

But the deep-rooted, romantic feeling that people call "love" is one she just can't feel, Kate is sure of it. At least not in the way Kate does for her.

She was just a call girl when she met the mysterious dominatrix for the first time. She'd run away from home when she was sixteen years old – a small country town and her parents always fighting, there was nothing that could have held her, especially since by this point she'd already discovered that she was bisexual with a preference for women – and from that, living on the streets and becoming a prostitute wasn't a big step. Although she did learn several languages, as well as the correct table manners, and eventually became a call girl, or a hostess, as some people call it.

After several years spent in several countries in Europe, she'd finally settled down in Holland, trying to make her living. It was there that the opportunity of blackmailing one of her richer clients presented itself.

He was a wealthy business man, his wife came from money herself. They had two children. Kate had bills to pay, and – well, she didn't think his wife would appreciate the picture of her husband as fetish batman.

But she hadn't foreseen that the husband would try to get the picture back at all costs, though today, she knows quite well what lengths people will go to in order to save the happy small lives they have built for themselves.

So she had to run away from the business man's "associates", the only thing in her possession her mobile phone with the picture.

She had hid in an abandoned warehouse, somewhere near the port.

And that's were Irene Adler had found her.

She'd fallen asleep eventually, and woken up by the sound of someone moving. She'd started to her feet, and there the dominatrix had been. Cold, beautiful, irresistible as always.

"Not a bad target, Kate" she'd said, "but I think your execution leaves something to be desired".

And then she'd proceeded to explain how they could best get the money they were after (and, yes, just like that, it had gone from "Kate" to "we") and still send the picture to his wife, just to prove a point.

So they did, and had, several months later in Paris, quite a lot of fun reading about his divorce.

By this point, Irene had asked her to accompany her as "live-in PA... and something more" and Kate hadn't been able to resist. The Woman was beautiful and intelligent, a combination she'd always been attracted to.

And, though she hadn't admitted it to herself yet, it had been love at first sight for her.

Not for Irene, obviously. Love is a serious disadvantage.

But even someone like Irene Adler needs someone sometimes, someone to be there, someone she knows, someone she can trust.

Which is why Kate still lives with her, three years after they've met, two and a half years after she's finally admitted to herself that she loves the one person the least likely in the world to ever love her back.

They blackmail clients, they sleep together, they travel to other countries. Now and then she ends up unconscious, but she's got used to it at this point, to be honest. And Irene is always nicer to her after it happens.

Irene cheats on her, though she has probably no right to call it that. They are lovers, but not in a relationship per se. And what Irene wants, she takes. Kate hides her feelings when it happens (and she always knows when it does). She is what Irene needs: a good friend, a willing lover, an excellent partner in crime. And she never, ever talks about her feelings. She's become used to that, too.

And then a certain young female member of the Royal family decides she needs to be punished, and of course, the opportunity is too good to let pass. Especially when Irene has managed to get a code that could be worth a lot from a man working in the Ministry of Defence – really, men are so easy to control when you know what they like.

But they don't really know how best to use either the pictures or the code. Of course they are aware that there must be someone who knows everything and runs everything from the shadows – the MOD official has hinted as much, but not even Irene could get him to reveal the name, which means the man must either be really dangerous or even more powerful than they think.

Naturally, Irene calls it fascinating.

But she knows who to contact; the consulting criminal himself, Jim Moriarty. No one who has ever committed a rather big crime in Britain is unaware of his existence. And, since they have already successfully blackmailed quite a few lords...

He is more than ready to help (even though, Irene tells her, he seemed rather preoccupied when she called) and immediately tells them the man they are looking for is Mycroft Holmes.

And that his little brother Sherlock Holmes is the one who can crack the code.

And that's where Kate's problems start.

Because Irene Adler might not fall in love...

But with Sherlock Holmes, she's as close to it as she can be. And that the dominatrix is a self-proclaimed lesbian is no help either. She doesn't seem to believe in something like sexual orientation, judging by her lovers over the years.

Even Kate has to admit that the consulting detective is good-looking and intelligent, which makes matters worse.

Irene has often... well, slept with someone else.

But this time, for the first time, though she hasn't had sex with Sherlock Holmes yet, Kate fears that she might lose her.

So she's rather grateful when Irene decides it's time for her to die – again. If she remembers correctly, they have done this four times in the years she's been her companion.

But even being dead can't keep Irene Adler away from Sherlock Holmes, though she does tell Kate that it's only the code. Because they need to know what it means. But Kate knows better, because, even if Irene doesn't realize it, Kate knows her.

And that she is in a hotel room in Brighton during all of this, with occasional calls from Irene, doesn't make it any easier.

She's rather happy when Irene tells her everything's is going to be over soon, but she could do without the tinge of regret in the dominatrix' voice.

And then –

Then Irene just calls her, desperate, panicked, something Kate never thought she'd hear and doesn't particularly care for either, and tells her she has to get out of Europe.

And that they can't see each other again.

And when Kate starts crying, and cursing, and begging, Irene just hangs up for the last time, the very last time, without a goodbye and she is left on the floor, clutching the phone, wishing they'd never set eyes on the code or ever got hold of the pictures. Over three years of her life, just gone like that.

Because life with Irene wasn't exactly perfect, but it was close enough. Kate wasn't always happy – but being so most of the time is still more than the average human being ever gets. Got.

There's no point continuing a life of crime, not when Irene was the real brain behind it all, so she remembers the other thing she taught her and becomes a dominatrix. A good one too.

She returns to Holland because she still has the hope that Irene will show up again, one day. The dominatrix does that. She's disappeared without a word before (and Kate ignores the thought that this time she didn't disappear without a word). And if Irene decides to look for her – it's here, where they first met, that she'll start looking. She's often teased Kate for her "sentimental streak".

As it turns out, almost a year after her goodbye call, she stands in Kate's studio. Still beautiful, but a year of being hunted leaves its marks.

"I'm back, and you don't have to worry – this time, the world really thinks I'm dead."

"How?" she inquires, though she already knows the answer.

She's right. "Sherlock".

It's all she tells her, and it's all she wants to know, she muses, later that night, when Irene touches her where she likes to be touched. Irene is dead to the world, and still, she chose to come here, come back to her, not to go with Sherlock after he'd saved her. That's something.

They are not together, not really, but they live and work and stay together, from that moment on.

And sometimes, that's all you need.

**Author's note: Time to say something: THIS IS INCREDIBLE! When I checked my mails today, I had over thirty alerts – over thirty! My readers are wonderful.**

**Also, concerning this story: It is Kate/Irene, sorry to all Sherlock/Irene shippers. There is definitely some attraction there, don't get me wrong, but Sherlock Holmes said in the Devil's foot (which is set after a Scandal in Bohemia) that he has never loved, and I'm not sure if Irene Adler (BBC's version) can love. I mean it. For me, there is a difference between physical attraction and having feelings for a person, and, well – being attracted to Sherlock isn't that unusual, right? **

**Mind: ...**

**Me: You can listen to the "Pastorale" all you want, but I am still glaring at you.**

**Mind: Fine.**

**Me: Kate? Kate?! Really? Why?**

**Mind: Because there are no stories about her.**

**Me: And?**

**Mind: And – you wanted to write it too.**

**Me: Ahem...**

**Mind: Well, you typed it.**

**Me:... Damn it.**

**I hope you liked it, please review. **


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